


kinda like James Dean

by Underthebluerain



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Flirting, Don't copy to another site, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Drunkenness, Emotional Constipation, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-16 17:11:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18098591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Underthebluerain/pseuds/Underthebluerain
Summary: “You’re so cool, Grif,” Simmons sighs, dreamily, and that’s when Grif’s night takes a 180 degree turn and he’s not sure if it’s for better or worse.





	kinda like James Dean

It is, in hindsight, Grif’s fault. Sort of. Maybe. Possibly. But not fully.  


After all, it’s not Grif’s fault that Simmons is a stick in the mud that only agrees to loosen up after he’s been sufficiently peer-pressured. It’s not Grif’s fault that the Reds and Blues’ idea of ‘loosening up’ this evening consists basically on consuming alcohol. And it’s definitely not Grif’s fault that Simmons is, to no one’s surprise, a fucking lightweight.  


Simmons has only drunk two Donut trademark margaritas and he’s already giggling like a child and sharing some... private stuff.  


And also resting his head on Grif’s shoulder, that’s a thing that’s happening right now.  


Another thing that is not Grif’s fault, by the way: the fact that Simmons is, apparently, an affectionate, happy, oversharing drunk.  


“...And then I fell down the stairs and broke my two front teeth! And that’s the story of the first and last time I tried to masturbate in high school.” Simmons finishes his story and leans forward to grab another margarita from the tray. He snuggles back against the couch and... yep, that’s his head on Grif’s shoulder again.  


Holy shit, is Simmons going to be embarrassed in the morning.  


Tucker laughs. “You would, you fucking nerd.” He takes a sip from his straw —bright aqua, because they have to color-code their fucking everything, apparently— and says, “I bet you didn’t even have any friends in school.”  


Simmons shrugs. “Nah, not really. I didn’t have any friends until I met y’all sorry asses.” His expression gets considering and then he lifts his face and beams at Grif. “In fact, I think Grif was my first friend ever!”  


Oh, wow. Grif was 100% on board with embarrassing Simmons, but now this is just getting sad.  


And it’s going to get worse, because Simmons is still talking.  


“And I actually find that weird, you know? ‘Cause we’re so different and all that. I can’t believe we’re friends, you know what I mean?”  


There’s a pause. And then:  


“You’re so cool, Grif,” Simmons sighs, dreamily, and that’s when Grif’s night takes a 180 degree turn and he’s not sure if it’s for better or worse.  


He’s frozen on the spot, and judging by the silence, so is everyone else for a moment. 

Except Simmons, who happily settles back into Grif like what he just said is something he’d ever say out loud, or think about, in any circumstances, ever.  


Tucker’s the one who breaks the silence, because of course he is.  


“Oh, is he really?” he asks, innocently, staring right at Grif with a wicked smile, knowing full well he’s egging Drunk Simmons on, the asshole.  


Simmons nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! He acts like, you know, like a rebel James Dean or some shit like he doesn’t care that he’s gonna get in trouble at all! But it’s actually because he’s really chill and smart and he just doesn’t let people know he is because that’s what you do when you’re chill and smart. He has a black motorcycle back in Hawaii! And he’s a really fast driver. Like a race car driver! Remember how he ran over Wash?” Simmons giggles again. “Sorry, Wash. But you kinda deserved it. You were being a butt!”  


“You _were_ a butt.” Caboose nods sagely, while Wash looks equal parts offended and amused. Carolina seems to be stifling a laugh with her hand and Donut looks like he's having the time of his life.  


Grif is so speechless by this whole surreal situation that he doesn’t stop Simmons, who continues running his mouth, unopposed.  


“He can swim really well, and he can hold his breath for a really long time underwater. And surf! He’s like that guy in that movie who surfs, but cooler! He has a tattoo on his arm. Not my arm, his one. He speaks Hawaiian and he learned Spanish in just a few weeks! But he doesn’t want you guys to know so don’t tell him I told you. He’s in a band! He plays bass! Both basses! Like, the electric one and the normal one! I didn’t even know there was a normal one! And he can sing, too. He sings in the shower a lot, and—”  


Tucker sees his chance and he lunges forward like a shark smelling blood. “Oh, what else do you notice in the shower?”  


“He’s got a nice bu—”  


“Okay!” Grif gets up like he’s been struck by lightning. “Bed time!” He puts Simmons’ arm around his neck and lifts him up from the couch, because it’s clear that he needs to go sleep it off. Both for his sake and Grif’s. “Night, bye, it’s been a blast, guys, see you hopefully in two years.” He starts moving away from the couch while trying very hard to ignore the hoots (Tucker), the “Yes, you two should go to bed!” (Donut) the “But I don’t wanna go to bed!” (Caboose) and the snickers (practically everybody else).  


Oh god, Simmons is still going. “And also I mean, I know smoking is really bad for you, but it makes him look cool when he does it. Like James Dean or some shit. Don’t tell him I said that,” he says to everyone, and then turns to look directly at Grif and adds, “You still gotta quit smoking, though. I mean, look at James Dean and fuck all! They’re all dead!”  


“I’m beginning to think you have a thing for James Dean, buddy.” They’re in the hallway and thankfully away from prying ears now. Good, good. Keep walking, Grif. Just two doors to go.  


“I mean, maybe I do. But I definitely have a thing for you!”  


Grif almost drops Simmons then and there.  


“...Okay,” he says when his voice returns after it escaped all the way to Blood Gulch to let out a soul-deep scream and then came back by foot. “Okay, we’re going to bed. You’re going to bed. Your own bed. And I'm going to mine. To sleep. Alone.”  


He reaches Simmons’ door, finally, opens it with some difficulty, and enters. He helps Simmons get on the bed, and then he is ready to flee.  


But then Simmons rolls over on his side and looks up at him, and his expression is so fond that Grif’s heart does a weird stutter and he stays a moment longer.  


“You’re so cool. I can’t believe you like me.” Simmons has a dopey smile on his face now and _fuck_.  


Grif needs to go.  


“Goodnight, Simms.”  


“G’night!”  


Grif flees to his own room, only to find that, in line with his usual luck in life, he can’t sleep.  


He feels a small pang in his chest at the thought that apparently Simmons thinks he’s not cool enough for Grif or some bullshit. Which is partly true. Simmons is not cool. At all. He’s painfully uncool. But so is Grif, if he’s honest. And so are the rest of the Reds and Blues. They all fit together like that.  


What Grif mostly feels, though, is just plain shock. What the fuck could have gotten into Simmons to say stuff like that? He’s going to regret it all in the morning and be embarrassed and blushy and it will just make everyone’s teasing worse.  


But maybe a deep, carefully hidden part of him is flattered that Simmons thinks all those nice, stupid things about him.  


Maybe _Grif_ should get drunk and start blurting out all his truths about Simmons, too.  


See how he likes it.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born entirely of the conviction that Grif has a lot of qualities (canon and fanon) that I think a nerd like Simmons would find attractive and never admit that he finds attractive.
> 
> I know bc I myself am a nerd and I find them attractive.


End file.
